


Winter Wonderland

by Temaris



Category: Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: But they could have died from the cold, Cliche, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-05
Updated: 2012-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-29 00:44:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Temaris/pseuds/Temaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The slightest of excuses -- a little winter chill, a plethora of poorly distributed blankets.  (please to be handwaving the whole thing about true love's kiss. :koff:)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Wonderland

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Claire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/gifts).



Harry was freezing. His apartment was never the warmest of places (except when on fire which seriously, did not happen that often, everyone just turned up at the most inconvenient times) and *someone* had stolen all the bedclothes. He rolled onto his back and winced. The sheet was icy, and okay, he had apparently had some residual heat in his body, which was now rapidly leeching away.

"Thomas?" he grumbled. He patted at the other side of the bed in the dark, and bared his teeth in satisfaction. Blankets! And the blanket thief, all in one toasty mound.

Thomas had pleaded the icy Chicago winter, and the total lack of heating in the apartment, and these things were true, and then he'd thrown in a little sigh which somehow was worse than saying anything about brothers and saving people's lives, and the terrible things that a cold, starving White Court vampire might do out on his own, searching for warmth in a friendless -- Harry gritted his teeth. It was not going to work a second time. Bad enough Thomas had somehow managed to talk himself from the perfectly adequate sofa into sharing Harry's bed. For warmth. Not, it seemed, Harry's.

He tugged at the tightly wrapped mountain of blankets, but nothing shifted. The blankets promised warmth and he found himself shuffling closer, pressing against them in search of the warmth so close, and so very far away, and had a vision of himself pathetically huddled under a single inadequate corner of _his_ blankets while Thomas lived the high life, or at least the warm life, at his expense. He shoved a foot under the mound and grinned at the shriek:

"Cold!"

His foot was thawing out a little against the warm skin he'd found, even when it tried to wriggle away.

"Give me back my blankets, Thomas," he said firmly.

The mumbled reply was unintelligible, but apparently a refusal.

"Thomas, give me the damn blankets!"

"Make me," Thomas said, his head emerging, his hair spiky and a smug look on his face. Harry pounced, and grabbed the edge that Thomas had so unwisely opened up and yanked, hard.

The bundle stuck for a moment and then unraveled, decanting Thomas onto the floor, and the blankets onto Harry, who grinned beatifically, and hastily tucked them securely around himself. Not fast enough. Thomas was already back up, grabbing at the bedclothes and wrestling into the snug nest that Harry had made.

"There's really not enough room for you to do that," Harry said. This didn't trouble Thomas in the least, who blithely wriggled his way in until he was sprawled over Harry like an extra blanket, lying on him almost nose to nose. And er, everything else to everything else. Harry squirmed.

Thomas smirked straight into his half-brother's eyes, "Well, if you _insist_ ," he said cheerily, and squirmed too. Harry swallowed and tried to focus on the ceiling. The darkness made that difficult. As did Thomas's grinning face.

And um. Everything else.

In fact, he thought distantly, it was rather more like grinding than squirming, and the warmth and the touch of someone he loved -- _not like that_ \-- was.

"Um."

Thomas paused, "Harry?"

"Um."

Thomas shifted his hips in a very definite circle. That --

\------------------

Thomas pressed a kiss to Harry's open mouth, and took full advantage of Harry's brain being stuck on some sort of loop. "Harry?"

The great advantage of being a vampire was the night vision without the green halos around everything. There were drawbacks -- the nigh irresistable urge to snack every time you got laid, that kind of thing, but there were real advantages. Especially at times like these. Harry was not a quiet man ordinarily. If there was something appallingly inappropriate to say, he'd find it, with sparkles and little wizardy bells on, preferably in a room full of the precise people most likely to be offended by his so-called sense of humor.

But Harry was quiet. And hard. Definitely hard. He rocked a little and Harry gasped, his thighs slipping open, letting Thomas settle between them. Interesting. He sighed and lifted himself away slightly. Harry really did need to answer him.

"Do you know what you're doing?"

Harry blinked twice, and shook his head, then reached up, his hands wrapping over the points of Thomas's shoulders, and Thomas held himself perfectly still. The physical meant nothing if it wasn't Harry offering but Thomas taking.

Harry's broad hands rested there for a moment, clenched a little, just enough that Thomas felt bone shift and nails bite. Harry looked straight up into Thomas's eyes. He probably couldn't see much, if anything, but it didn't matter. The faintest of grins was Thomas's only clue, and Harry's arms slid down and around and wrapped Thomas into a suffocatingly tight hug.

Thomas swallowed. "Okay then," he murmured and hugged back, suppressing a sigh, and wondering how long it would be before they got past this. Then Harry shifted his hips, unmistakably, hot and hard and _right there_ and Thomas began to grin too. "Well then," he said much more cheerfully. "You're still feeling a touch chilly there, Harry." He bit lightly at Harry's collarbone, following it along and then upwards into the line of his neck, and felt Harry mumble back,

"And whose fault is that?"

Thomas laughed breathlessly, rocking his hips against Harry's, enjoying the way Harry hooked their legs together at the knees. Harry's feet were damn cold, but it was worth the chill for the feel of them tangled up together.

"Well, your own, obviously." Thomas bit firmly at Harry's jaw, which stopped him talking for nearly a minute. The snug little blanket cave was rapidly turning into a sauna, and the way Harry was pushing up into Thomas, Thomas was starting to think that maybe he should have planned ahead further.

" _My_ fault!"

"Sure." He pressed a light kiss to Harry's chin, one to his nose. Harry was still expostulating and Thomas kissed him, a series of soft open-mouthed kisses, trying and testing until he found the perfect angle. He cupped Harry's face carefully, and paused, shoving the demon down until it was just a distant ache, until he could be sure the only people in the kiss were the two of them. And kissed Harry until there was nothing but the two of them. Wrapped up, tangled tight, blanket smothered, lost in the moment. Hot skin on nothing but hot skin, Harry making helpless little sounds of pleasure against his mouth, rubbing and pushing, rocking past all semblance of thoughts or plans or sanity, and withal, holding on to each other so hard that he knew they were leaving bruises on each other.

A little later, when their breathing had slowed again, and they'd rearranged the blankets to be less of a swamp and more of a bed, and they were snugly curled up around each other Harry muttered into Thomas's neck, "So how's it my fault?"

For the merest fraction of a second Thomas considered not saying anything. "Well. If you'd just listened when everyone told you we were gay for each other, I wouldn't have had to resort to the third oldest cliché in the book." Thomas chuckled. "Oh Harry, I'm so cold, won't you warm me up?"

White Court vampires are pretty strong. Sometimes, that's a real asset.


End file.
